


Dead Ringer

by Rozozzy



Series: The Pleasantview Archives [4]
Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Drowning, F/M, Gen, Meta, Murder, Mystery, Pleasantview, Stalking, Strangulation, blunt force trauma, the whole "two skip brokes" thing made me angry trying to make something coherent out of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22693669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozozzy/pseuds/Rozozzy
Summary: Brandi remembers Skip having blue eyes.-Or, the Two Skip Brokes Conundrum.
Relationships: Brandi Broke/Skip Broke
Series: The Pleasantview Archives [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936129
Comments: 15
Kudos: 29





	Dead Ringer

When he first sets his eyes on Brandi Newbie, he knows that she's the one for him.

He meets her just once, in a brief exchange on the playground during recess. A simple scrape on his knee leads to her tiny, soft hands guiding him to the nurse's office, her soothing voice reassuring him the entire walk there. It only takes that first step, that first smile, that first hello and goodbye for him to become thoroughly enamored with the dark-haired, grey-eyed beauty.

Then, something happens, A flash of vibrant color, a glint of blinding light. It's as if there is now an invisible glass wall wedged between him and reality, as if there is an unknown magnetic force holding him back, as if there is a boundary on some faded, distant horizon that is always just beyond his grasp.

Suddenly, his green eyes are on the outside looking in. He watches as another Skip Broke replaces him, a nearly flawless copy, he observes—save for minute facial distinctions that seem to crease the likeness of his image. He cries and screams and calls out to this Other Skip, this _fake_ , but his voice is lost in a limitless void, unable to be heard by anyone apart from his own company.

Someone will notice. Someone will find out soon enough that _that_ Skip isn't the real one, that it isn't him, and then he will be saved from whatever this place is, saved from whatever limbo he is currently imprisoned in. His parents, his friends, _someone_ has to catch on eventually.

Tears begin to well up in his eyes as the Other Skip turns around, appearing as if he is staring directly into his soul. He knows the Other Skip cannot really see him, but he glares at him all the same, a sudden hatred for this imposter overwhelming every fiber of his being.

He then notices something. Something unmistakeable, something uncanny, a crucial detail that becomes ingrained into his memory as he traces this doppelganger's movements, as their gazes seem to intersect for the briefest of moments.

The Other Skip has blue eyes.

* * *

He watches the years go by.

He watches as he ages with them, witnessing from the other side as the Other Skip grows close with Brandi and becomes instantly smitten with her, just as he did. He follows them everywhere—on their first date, their first kiss—and his heart begins to wither and die as he sees Brandi slowly fall deeper and deeper in love with a man who has no right to be existing in the first place.

When he watches the Other Skip finally propose to her, a sour taste forms in the back of his throat and seems to settle there. But in spite of how much it pains him, in spite of the years of resentment bottling up inside him just waiting to erupt, he doesn't stop.

He'll never stop.

So he continues to study them, ultimately following the Other Skip and Brandi to their wedding, to their honeymoon, to their new home, scrutinizing every aspect of their lives and engrossing himself in it as if it is his own. When the two of them have their first child, he pretends that the child is his own, getting a taste of fatherhood vicariously through them.

Because it's not fair. This is supposed to be _his_ girl, _his_ son, _his_ life.

And he is watching it all unfold before him without being a participating member.

* * *

Living on the other side is perhaps the cruelest punishment that the universe can enact on any singular person. Nothing could be more harsh, more unforgiving, than living in solitude in the arms of oblivion, never to be seen or heard, only being able to observe the rest of the world from another plane of existence. After years of nothing except the embrace of isolation, he has come to terms with his perpetual state of limbo, but every now and then he breaks down, desperate for a sliver of human interaction.

He shouts into the void. He asks it _why._ Why him. Why _this_ , of all things. Death would be more merciful than this—whatever _this_ truly is.

And then, the most peculiar thing happens.

The void answers back.

" _ **Life is nothing more than a game."**_ it says, its voice impassive and robotic. " _ **It can be manipulated. Messed with. Broken."**_ A brief pause. Then, " _ **You are an experiment. To see if you would be safe from a universe that is beyond our control."**_

His entire body freezes, unnerved by the sound of what may very well be the Creator. After taking a long minute to process what has just been said to him, he finally calls out to the void, his muscles tensed together as he releases a jagged breath.

"I don't care! I just want my life back!"

The void responds, lacking emotion, lacking sympathy. " _ **People are mere pieces of data. They can become missing, corrupted, and inevitably erased from existence."**_ Despite the heavy tones of this encounter, the void remains placid as it speaks. " _ **Tell me. What kind of life is that? Is this truly a life that you want?"**_

Vehement tears slip past his cheeks, his hands clenched into fists so tight that they could nearly bleed. He takes a step forward and violently swings his neck around, attempting to gain some sort of vantage point that he knows doesn't exist. He is, after all, conversing with an entity that is everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

"I just want _a_ life," he finally chokes out, almost unable to push the words past the back of his throat. "I don't care about inevitability. I just want to live before it happens."

A harrowing pause. Then, it tells him, " _ **Very well. I can restore you back to the physical world."**_

His heart pounds in his head and nearly tears through his chest upon hearing those words. "Really?" he asks, voice low and shaken with disbelief.

" _ **Yes,"**_ it says. " _ **But be warned. Crossing through this dimension back to reality will cause you to gain some comprehension of the workings of our universe. You will find out a terrifying truth that you must live with for eternity."**_

A biting laugh escapes him.

"I think I can live with that."

* * *

Reality is nothing more than a simulation.

It is a system, a string of code that can be exploited for personal gain if someone is to figure out how to work it. With this knowledge, with this definitive understanding of the world, he can take back what has been stolen from him all this time.

It doesn't matter if the void is right. It doesn't matter if life is nothing more than a game and all of its people are just pawns for a higher power's entertainment. It's still his life. He's going to make the most of what little time he may have left in this impartial universe. He's going to take advantage of what he knows, and he's going to stop at nothing until he gets what he has longed for year after year.

Brandi.

She is rightfully his, after all. Not that cheap copy who had usurped his entire life.

* * *

He waits until the dead of night.

He waits until Brandi and Dustin have fallen asleep, waits until he is able to corner the Other Skip, intercepting him just as he makes his way out of the bedroom for a midnight bathroom trip. He silences the Other Skip with a mouth gag and ties him down, dragging him out the front door, across the lawn, to the backyard, up until they reach the rim of the pool.

He holds the Other Skip by the throat of his shirt collar as he stares him down, anger surging through him like an echoing drum. He suspends him just above the watery surface, as the Other Skip's blue eyes race with fear, as they frantically plead for mercy.

"You're not the original Skip Broke," he hisses to this blue-eyed fraud, gritting his teeth.

He shoves the Other Skip's head into the water, submerging him for a few seconds before yanking him back to the surface.

" _I_ am."

He plunges the Other Skip a little deeper into the pool than before and holds him underwater for a little longer than he had done previously. When he finally decides to haul him up, he wrings both of his hands around his neck, digging his fingers into his flesh.

"I'm taking back what's mine," he says as he begins to drain the life out of the Other Skip, slowly throttling him above the faint glow of the pool. "Which means you can't be in the picture anymore."

He releases an abrupt, cynical laugh, shaking the Other Skip with a heightened ferocity. "But I'm not just going to kill you," he spits out, every word he speaks dripping with venom. "No. I'm going to wipe you from existence."

"You're just data," he sneers. "We all are. I'm going to make it so that your children will no longer belong to you. And I'm going to make it so that any remnants of your character are removed. Your life, your love, your memories—they will all be _mine._ "

"You won't just die," he tells him, a malicious smile forming onto his face. "You will be deleted. All traces of you wiped out completely."

He growls, watching the light begin to dim in the Other Skip's blue eyes, watching as the Other Skip struggles and kicks and gasps for air. The Other Skip desperately tries to shake him off, tries to scream and fight his way out, but is ultimately helpless and futile as he continues to be pinned down, his tenacity wavering.

He leans in close and whispers against the Other Skip's ear. "You know what the most satisfying part is in all this?

He can feel the Other Skip's willpower fading, can feel the fire inside him dying as he maintains his unyielding, contemptuous grip.

"It will be _impossible_ to bring you back."

He lets go. He stands, hovering over the Other Skip's limp body as it crashes beneath the pool's surface face down, hanging adrift amongst the water, still, unmoving. He then reaches into the fabric of the universe, tearing through to the other dimension.

Carefully, calmly, he deletes the Other Skip.

The body that floats lifelessly within the pool vanishes, and the Grim Reaper does not arrive.

* * *

Later that night, he crawls into bed, wrapping his arm around Brandi and burying his face against her neck. To hold her, to feel her, to have her—it is almost unreal.

He has lived so long without a warm, kind touch, has lived so long without the love of another person. So he keeps Brandi close with a tightened grip, tears falling from his eyes, unable to grasp the fact that he is _here_ with _her_ in this moment, that this is _real,_ that he finally, _finally_ has this. He has _her._ And so he continues to hold her, not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose any more time with her than he already has.

Brandi suddenly shifts in bed, and she rolls over with a yawn, their foreheads now touching.

"I love you," she mumbles drowsily, pressing her lips against his cheek before falling back asleep.

He sighs, his heart aching with contentment.

"I love you too."

* * *

Even with a tight budget, even with another baby being born, even with what little this family has, he couldn't be happier. This life suits him. Being a husband, being a father, it's what he has always wanted. It's what he is meant to do.

He raises baby Beau as if he was his own. He loves him, loves Dustin, and most of all, loves Brandi as if they have always been a part of his life from the very beginning. He attempts to potty train Beau—to no avail, drives Dustin to school and to his friends and to the park, and treats his wife like the goddess she is every day and every night. He cooks and he plays and he picks up a job to support the family's constantly growing list of needs.

He makes love to Brandi, wanting to have her in that way for so long and desperate for a child to truly call his own. After nights of trying, one morning she emerges from the bathroom, face glowing with happiness as she holds a positive pregnancy test between her delicate fingertips. He laughs as he leaps into her arms, completely overjoyed.

At long last.

Everything has fallen into place.

* * *

"Join me for a dip in the pool?"

Brandi poses this question as she gently pats her small baby bump, dipping her feet into the water and leaning back against the pool's ledge. Dusk begins to bleed against the sky, and although it is an odd time to be taking a swim, he cannot help but oblige his tender, loving wife.

He puts on his swimming trunks and hops right in, wading in the water peacefully as Brandi watches down on him from where she is sitting. Her soft, subtle smile suddenly disappears, and she rises from the ledge, a darkened expression casted over her face.

She unhinges the flimsy pool ladder from its spot on the wall. She stares down at him, eyes burning with hatred and lips curled into a dangerous scowl.

Then, Brandi hoists the pool ladder above her head.

And she begins to strike him repeatedly.

* * *

Ah. Of course.

So this is his punishment, isn't it?

It was bound to happen eventually. It was only a matter of time before she saw right through his facade. It may have taken a while, may have been hard for her to come to terms with it all, considering the implications. But she isn't stupid. And he knows why she is doing this, knows what crucial detail has led to this very moment.

Brandi remembers Skip having blue eyes.

Not green.

Blood begins to trickle down his pulsating head with every subsequent blow. He struggles to stay afloat as she viciously continues to bludgeon him, his vision blurring, his strength diminishing. The pool water violently splashes around him as he thrashes about, as the water begins to catch in the back of his throat, causing him to choke.

"Where's my husband?" Brandi cries out, voice cracking in shrill desperation. "Where's the real Skip?"

Despite slowly losing consciousness, he manages to open another rift into the other dimension, frantically attempting to access Brandi's character data. He tries to delete her memories, tries to make her forget. He ends up failing, only managing to accidentally unlink his genetic ties to their unborn baby and disorganizing the tailend of her memories instead of wiping the slate clean. It's too much for him to handle, and he is unable to regain his focus as he is being battered to death, his arms flailing wildly against the water.

"You can't—" he coughs out as more water splashes into his mouth. "You need me! You can't possibly raise three kids on your own!"

One massive blow finally knocks the fight out of him, his muscles, his consciousness giving in. Everything around him begins to blur, begins to fade, and soon he feels himself gradually sink, the water finally filling up his lungs, the water finally dragging him underneath.

His eyes close. The last thing he hears as the overwhelming darkness of the void reaches over him is the muffled sound of Brandi's spiteful voice that carries through the water.

"Watch me."

_Fin._


End file.
